


Sweet as Sugar

by Gampyre



Series: Fictober 2020 [9]
Category: Carry On Series - Rainbow Rowell
Genre: Awkward Boners, Coming In Pants, Fictober, First Kiss, First Time, Getting Together, M/M, Messy Kisses, Public Blow Jobs, Public Sex, Semi-Public Sex, Simon's trying to seduce Baz now, Smut, Watford Eighth Year, but did you really expect anything else?, even MORE food innuendo, sort of... there's a privacy spell
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-22
Updated: 2020-10-22
Packaged: 2021-03-08 23:47:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,230
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27154723
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gampyre/pseuds/Gampyre
Summary: Fictober day 14—Cinnamon buns!Simon's had enough of Baz's teasing, so he decides to do some seducing of his own.Or: A cinnamon bun plays matchmaker to two horny idiots in love.
Relationships: Tyrannus Basilton "Baz" Pitch/Simon Snow
Series: Fictober 2020 [9]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1949773
Comments: 17
Kudos: 143





	Sweet as Sugar

**Author's Note:**

> Flufftober/fictober prompts  
> [here](https://subpar-selkie.tumblr.com/post/628080856195547136/flufftober-prompts)
> 
> A huge thank you to [Sharing_a_room_with_an_open_fire](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sharing_a_room_with_an_open_fire/pseuds/Sharing_a_room_with_an_open_fire) and [shushu_yaoi_lj](https://archiveofourown.org/users/shushu_yaoi_lj/pseuds/shushu_yaoi_lj) for the last minute beta! And for easing my anxiety about posting my first ever smutty fic.

_Baz_

I absentmindedly wipe the butter and saliva from my chin with the sleeve of my shirt (Watford issue—one of my least favorites). Snow is surveying the buffet line, and I’m sitting here waiting for him to come back, feeling sticky and greasy and more than a little aroused. I’m half-hard just from seeing the outline of Snow’s erection through his trousers—from the looks of it, there’s plenty there to be excited about.

After some deliberation, Snow picks something from the buffet, and stalks toward me. He doesn’t stop at his table, though. He keeps going, getting closer and closer with each step, until he reaches me. He stops in front of me, then sits down in the seat directly across from me at my table. He’s still got a raging hard-on, though I’m the only who notices. I had cast **_There’s nothing to see here!_ ** when things started to get a bit too heated, and I’m pretty sure he cast one too, judging from the smell of his magic in the air. The dining hall is crowded—it’s still the middle of dinner—but no one is paying us any attention, or even looking in our direction.

Snow props his elbows up on the table. He’s holding a bloody cinnamon bun. Keeping steady eye contact with me, Snow brings the bun to his lips, and— _oh._

So that’s how this is going to go, then.

I lean back in my chair and cross my arms over my chest, trying to look relaxed. It’s not easy, what with the way Snow is plunging his tongue into the center of that cinnamon roll, and what the sight of it is doing to me. He’s got his head turned at just the right angle so I can see exactly what he’s doing. And what he’s doing can only be described as eating out a cinnamon bun. 

He traces the center of the spiral with the firm tip of his tongue, then dips his tongue into the hole in the center of it. Snow looks over at me out of the corner of his eye as he pulls back, then licks a stripe over the hole, pressing the flat of his tongue to the bun as he licks from bottom to top.

A flush rises to my cheeks, and I wonder if he can tell. Snow closes his eyes then, and thrusts his tongue deeper into the center of the roll. He moans as he swirls his tongue around inside. He pulls back, and licks roughly around the center. 

“Merlin,” he groans. “These buns taste so _fucking_ good.” He presses his mouth to the bun and sucks at it, pausing to lick the cinnamon and glaze off his lips every so often. 

I know what he’s trying to do, and it’s working. I can’t help but imagine those lips and that tongue on me. ( _In_ me.) _Crowley._ I cross my legs in a feeble attempt to make my body calm down, but then Snow fucking _moans_ again, a deep, guttural sound, and I realize how well and truly fucked I am.

There’s no turning back now.

He thrusts his tongue in the center hole again once, twice, three times, and then turns to face me. His lips and cheeks and nose are covered in white icing, and spit is dribbling down his chin. He goes to wipe at the mess with the back of his wrist, but I lean across the table and catch his hand.

“Let me.”

_Simon_

Baz is on me before I can even drop the cinnamon bun. He climbs into my lap, presses me against the back of my chair with his body, and attacks my mouth with his. He licks at my lips, my cheeks, the tip of my nose, my chin . . . he’s going for the icing, but I don’t care about the mess. I just want his tongue between my lips. I twist my head until he relents and lets me catch his bottom lip between my teeth. Then I shove _my_ tongue in _his_ mouth.

He. Tastes. _Fucking amazing._

The butter and salt on his lips mingle with the sugar on my tongue, and it’s heavenly. No, it’s sinful, is what it is. His mouth is fucking _decadent_. His tongue is the best thing I’ve ever tasted. So are his lips. And so are his fingers—when he wipes glaze off my cheek with his thumb, I suck it into my mouth to lick it off. And then I find the two fingers he’d sucked butter off of earlier and shove those in my mouth, too. 

His skin is smooth and buttery and soft, and all I want is to taste the rest of him. I need to taste _all_ of him. Run my tongue over every inch of his perfect skin. Know what he feels like under my hands, under my lips, right where he’s supposed to be.

I’m so hungry for him. I’m so hungry, and he’s the only one who can fill me. (So many things are starting to make sense now.)

Baz is alternately kissing me and licking the sugar from my face. I dig my hands into his hair, and he doesn’t even complain about me getting it all sticky. I tug on it a little, and he presses closer to me in response. I feel him against my stomach, through his trousers—he’s hard, as hard as I am now, and when I slide one hand down between us to palm his crotch, he gasps and rolls his hips again. I make an embarrassingly strangled sound.

He feels so good, and he’s been teasing me _all fucking day_ , and I think if we don’t go back to our room right this second, I am going to come in my pants, right here in the middle of the dining hall.

_Baz_

I never imagined that my first kiss— _our_ first kiss—would be like this.

I thought about it so many times. Dreamed about it. I thought I’d give him a kiss wet with tears as he drove his sword through my heart, my final confession and farewell. Or I thought one day he’d come back from a mission all broken and bloody, with no one to help but me, and I’d comfort him, and then we’d share a soft and gentle kiss as he lay in my arms. Or I thought one day we’d be fighting, and he’d knock me to the ground and hold me down with his body, and I’d finally give in and take him by the back of the neck and pull him to me for a rough and passionate kiss.

I never thought I’d be licking butter and sugar glaze off of Simon Snow’s chin during dinner while straddling him and rutting into his stomach in front of all our classmates and teachers. (They can’t see us, but still.)

It’s the perfect kiss.

Snow kisses like he fights. Passionately and feverishly and recklessly. He digs his fingers into my thigh and grips my arse with his other hand, pulling me more tightly against him. My fingers fumble with his tie, but I manage to undo the knot and pull it off. Then I work on his shirt buttons, undoing them one by one until I can see every mole and freckle on his beautiful chest.

I run a thumb over one of his nipples, and he gasps and arches up into me. “Ba—Baz,” he chokes out. “I’m— _ah_.” I lean forward and suck one of his earlobes into my mouth, nipping at it as I pinch and flick his nipple again. I run my hand down his chest, across his stomach, reaching for his flies and undoing the button there. I pause then, kissing the soft skin under his ear and waiting until he says, “Yes, okay. Yes. Please,” and grabs my wrist to press my hand more firmly against him.

I check that my privacy spell is still holding—it is; the addition of Simon’s magic seems to have strengthened it. I push my anxiety about getting caught to the back of my mind (though to be honest, the idea of getting Snow off in public is a fantasy I’ve had before, though usually it’s in the middle of a battle, not in the middle of dinner). And then I slide off of Snow’s lap and drop to my knees in front of him.

_Simon_

I can hardly believe it. Am I dreaming? Fifteen minutes ago, Baz was sucking off a piece of corn. And now he’s got those beautiful soft buttery lips wrapped around me. I dunno if he’s ever done this before. I dunno if it’s even a good blowjob or not. It’s my first one—it’s not like I have much to compare it to. But it feels fucking incredible. So much better than I imagined. (And I’m quickly realizing that today isn’t the first day I’ve thought about Baz doing this.)

It takes us a bit to figure out a rhythm, but once we do, _Merlin_. His mouth is warm and wet around me, and every time he flicks his tongue it sends shocks of pleasure through my whole body. He runs his hands up and down my thighs, touching me everywhere, teasing me with his fingers. His hands are pleasantly cool against my flushed skin. I dig my fingers into his hair and just look at him. He meets my eyes, and the sight of him on his knees in front of me makes my stomach twist with a rush of warmth that’s as much love and affection as it is lust. 

How the hell did it take me so long to figure this out?

I was close even before he took me in his mouth, so it doesn’t take long for me to come. When the aftershocks fade, he’s still on his knees, looking up at me, and my hands are still in his hair. I pull on it gently to tilt his face up towards mine. He’s flushed, his lips are pink and wet, and he looks utterly debauched. He’s perfect, and lovely, and I want him to be _mine_. 

“Simon.” His voice is hoarse and wrecked.

“You’re beautiful,” I tell him, breathlessly.

_Baz_

Snow pulls me into a kiss, and I kiss him back hesitantly, but he doesn’t seem to care about tasting himself on me. He presses against my lips with his tongue until I part them for him, and then he licks at the inside of my mouth. 

“Baz,” he says.

“Snow.”

He shakes his head, his lips never leaving mine. “You called me Simon.”

“I didn’t,” I whisper into his mouth. 

“You did.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Simon.”

He pulls back and gives me his brightest smile. The one I’ve seen a thousand times; the one that’s never before been meant for me. “Baz, you haven’t, uh—Do you want me to . . . ?” He trails off, gesturing downward and waiting for my answer.

I flush. I’m a bit embarrassed to admit I came just from sucking him off (and with a little helpful pressure from the heel of my hand). “I—” I clear my throat. “I already, um. I mean . . . I’m—” 

“Oh, no that’s okay,” he says quickly, flushing too. “We should probably go back to our room now anyway.” 

I nod and stand, slipping my wand out of my sleeve to cast a cleaning spell and—after Snow has fixed his clothing—undo the privacy spell. We stand there looking at each other for a minute. Snow looks thoroughly ravished (as do I, I’m sure). He reaches up and runs his fingers through my hair, smoothing it down and brushing it behind my ears. A few of our classmates are watching us warily, no doubt bracing themselves for another one of our explosive arguments. But Snow surprises everyone—including me—when he drapes his arms around my neck and pulls me in for a deep kiss.

This kiss is nothing like the one before. It’s soft and affectionate. His fingers lightly brush the back of my neck, and his lips move slowly, leisurely against mine. Even after he breaks the kiss, he lingers, his face hovering inches from mine. 

“Is this okay?” he whispers. “If people see? I mean, if people know?”

I stroke his lips with one finger. There’s a mole on his cheek that I’ve wanted to kiss since I was fifteen. So I do. I hook my finger under his chin to tilt his face up, and I kiss that mole. Then I kiss the one under his right eye. And then I kiss his lips again. “If people know what, exactly?”

Snow shrugs. “That—That we’re . . .” He pauses, scrunching up his face the way he does when he’s trying to find the right words. “That I like you. A lot. That . . . you like me?” He says it like a question. I smile down at him.

“I do like you,” I say. “A lot. Clearly.”

He laughs lightly. “I want this, Baz. I want you.”

“Then you can have this . . . whatever this is. You can have me. In any way you want.” He grins wickedly at that. “But let’s continue this conversation in our room, shall we?”

And he takes me by the hand.

**Author's Note:**

> Come say hi to me on Tumblr!  
> [Gampyre on Tumblr](https://gampyre.tumblr.com/)


End file.
